Opposite of Amnesia
by skywriter55
Summary: "She glanced in some wonder at the face beside her own, for the sound of his laugh had been merry. In his face she saw at first only lines of worry and sorrow; though when she looked more closely she saw that under all there was great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth." Follow the unique story of a girl in the Company of Dwarves.
1. Chapter 1: Improbability

** "Some legends are told**

** Some turn to dust or to gold**

** But you will remember me,**

** Remember me for centuries;**

** And just one mistake is all it will take**

** We'll go down in history**

** Remember me for centuries."**

** -Fall Out Boy**

My head was resting on the pillar I leaned back against. The stars in the sky twinkled almost teasingly at me. I frowned and shook an errant hair out of my face. Never had I seen so many stars, nor had they ever been so bright in the night. It was almost like I was being told something, or connecting with someone, or watching someone. Or having someone watch me.

I shook my head sharply with a small smile on my face. The pipe-weed smell of the night, emanating from the Elves in the cove below, was clearly getting to my head. I uncrossed my legs and stretched stiffly, pulling each arm in turn around my body until a loud pop sounded in my ears. Some of those smoking decided to pull out the wine as well, and I heard distinctly the popping of a cork and drunken male laughs.

"Can you not sleep?"

I turned around and smiled as Lord Elrond glided over to me. His kind, open face was serene as ever as he ascended towards me.

"I don't know why, but no, I can't sleep. For around a month I've had the strangest sleeping patterns."

He rested a hand on my shoulder and tugged lightly, letting me know that I was to walk with him. We kept a leisurely pace for awhile, with me having to stretch my legs more to accommodate his immense height.

After a moment, he came to an abrupt, yet still graceful, stop. We both leaned against the railing of the white-washed stone and relaxed. So relaxed was I in his presence that I didn't have to worry about etiquette or manners at the moment, as I usually did here.

"Look, look at the stars." His soothing voice directed my eyes upwards, right at the twinkles that I'd been staring at previously.

"The sky is beautiful tonight," I responded.

With a finger, he pointed at one distinct point of light that seemed to flare on-and-off, the lightest one that was a pale and icy blue. It sparkled like a jewel.

Lord Elrond said, "That, my dear, is the signal that something has aligned. Whether it be a sense of rightness in the world, or simply an impending candor of reality, the Evenstar has had cause to burn bright."

I mulled over his words for a moment before resting on the railing with my elbows. "You still speak in riddles, Lord Elrond." His wisdom was far greater than any I'd known before, so it was sometimes hard to follow what he said to me.

A faint hint of laughter could be detected in his soft voice. As he placed an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him in a familiar embrace, the Evenstar caught on the silver of his crown and twinkled in my vision.

"I know I do. Just think it over, and I think you shall be more at peace."

With that, he released me and continued on his way. Just before his silvery robes swept out of sight, I whispered, "Thank you." Though I was sure he'd heard me, there was no reply, and all was silent again.

I stared up again, watching the deep black sky, feeling so insignificant in that moment. I felt as though my world was just a tiny, tiny piece of reality, so small that with a gust of wind it would be forever lost. There was infinite Middle-Earth that I hadn't had the chance to discover yet. Did I even want to?

My brooding thoughts turned pensive. I had a lovely place to call home; my adoptive family was more than lovely; I had never gone hungry, or been ill, or been called upon to do something that I didn't want to.

And yet a piece of me felt either empty or yearning—for what, I had no idea. I yearned for something that was far bigger than myself. Sometimes it was in my dreams: a hazy future, something that was always just beyond my fingertips. In these unconscious visions, it was as though I just had to jump off of a cliff to achieve what I wanted; but I'd never been brave enough.

I sighed, and shoved away from the railing to trail into my room. The open, wide expanse left part of the sky open for viewing, just as I liked. Even reclining in my bed, I could see the star flaring up in the black sky. I didn't want to look at it, but it seemed to draw my eyes like moths to a flame.

So I just resigned myself to another sleepless night. I folded my arms behind my head and stared up, letting my thoughts wander to places I'd never been, places I wouldn't ever see in reality.

As my eyes unfocused and focused again, the bright blue Evenstar blurred and became two separate points of light; suddenly I was looking into a pair of icy eyes, alight with emotion.

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"Thorin, wake up."

Thorin Oakenshield's eyes snapped open immediately and he sat stock-straight, one hand going to the sword strapped onto his belt. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark night and he saw the figure of his eldest nephew, Fili, kneeling next to him. Though he knew there was no danger, his heart raced.

The younger Dwarf crawled to Thorin's right, nestling down into his makeshift bed on the dirt floor. "Your turn for the watch, and then it's Nori's turn after—"

Thorin cut him off gruffly. "I'll keep the watch until dawn. Sleep, Fili."

In instants, Fili's breathing slowed and he was snoring lightly. Thorin almost felt an affectionate glow rush through him as he watched the boys who had become like sons to him. Next to Fili, the younger brother Kili lay just as still, one arm thrown over his face.

The Dwarf rose from the ground and moved further away from the cove where they slept. His sapphire eyes roamed over the sleeping bundles on the ground—twelve Dwarves and one Hobbit lay ever so still, calm in the depths of sleep. He settled himself down on the watch-rock and kept his stance upright, always scanning the night. Quietly, he drew the sword from his belt and held it across his lap. In the light of the blazing stars, he tilted the carefully crafted sword this way and that to examine it more closely.

A low, gravelly voice broke him from his focused examination. "I did not think you wanted to keep such a sword."

Thorin spared a brief glance over to his right, where Gandalf the Grey sat, a ring of smoke wreathed around his head. The wizard was staring straight ahead, puffing on his pipe.

"Indeed not. But it is a fine blade, loath as I am to admit." Even he could not deny the beauty in front of him. Thorin turned the Elven-made sword over in his hands, seeing the inscriptions wink back at him. Upon defeating the three hungry trolls, their hoard had been discovered with many treasures inside. The Company was sad to leave all the gold and prizes behind, but Thorin had been adamant. If they were to reach the mountain by Durin's Day then they had to keep a constant pace.

Gandalf nodded sagely in the way that infuriated Thorin. The wizard often had a set about his face that made him seem as though he knew everything inside the Dwarf's head.

Thorin winced as the brightest star in the sky caught his vision again. "What could that be? I've never seen a star shine quite like that."

Gandalf's voice came once again from behind a cloud of pipe-smoke. "That is the Evenstar."

"Hmm." Though Thorin didn't ask for more information of this seemingly insignificant star, Gandalf opted to keep speaking.

"This star only glows such when something has aligned—it could signify a change of intention, or luck."

Thorin scoffed. "I do hope that you're correct, Gandalf, because a change of luck may be what this Company needs."

"Do you not think things could have been worse so far?" asked the wizard speculatively.

The Dwarf picked up his whetstone and slid it across the already-sharpened blade of his sword, avoiding the wise gaze of Gandalf. "Things surely could have been better. Though it is true, for this, we could have been less fortunate." At this statement, he threw a glance over at a puff of curly golden hair peeking out from a nest of blankets.

Gandalf followed the glance and glowered at Thorin. "You don't truly believe that Mr. Baggins is bringing the Company any ill will."

"No. But my doubts still hold strong."

The wizard shook his head in irritation and faced up at the sky again, taking another long puff of his pipe. "You'll soon find that it isn't just brute strength that can equal value, Thorin Oakenshield. If that star is any indication, there's a change in the wind. I can feel it."

"In some ways, I hope that you prove me wrong. But again, I doubt it."

With that, Thorin faced forward again and braced his elbows on his knees to resume the watch. Resigning himself to another sleepless night, he looked up again at that same strange star, watching as it glowed far to the East, right above where he was going—leading him, it seemed, to his homeland.


	2. Chapter 2: Heed the Warning

**"I chose this because men do not fear swords.**

** They fear monsters."**

** -Luke Evans, **_**Dracula Untold**_

It wasn't until sun-high the next day, as I was practicing my shot, that anything interesting happened. The battle horns sounded, catching me off guard. The arrow I was currently shooting fell far short of my target—I left it there and clambered up the waterfall where I'd been shooting. I watched helplessly as battle-ready Elves stormed out on horses that stood even taller than them. These Elves had thick coats of armor, weapons specially crafted to kill.

Though it was unusual for that many to be called to battle, I wasn't worried, not even when I saw Lord Elrond galloping on his white gelding. They always came back without a single scratch. Such was the nature of Elves.

Since I was on top of the waterfall, the highest point of Rivendell, it was easy to see what was going on in the field just outside our perimeter. A group of Orcs converged on a smaller band of people, who were encircled. My eyes widened; there was no way that these men could escape the bloodthirsty monsters that converged on them. Even though I couldn't shoot that far, my fingers twitched towards my bow as though I could help.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a huge gray figure leaping down into a rocky cove. Rogue wavy hairs blustered into my face from the wind and I brushed them away hurriedly so that I could still see. I knew that place well. It was the back entrance, so to speak, into Rivendell. I used that trail often to explore the exact field that Orcs had overrun at the moment.

I felt no panic at first, for only one figure had breached our land. A moment later, however, the rest of them realized that the rocky cove was their salvation and they too ran to take cover. Not a moment before the last one jumped in did the Elves storm the Orcs' ranks, causing complete chaos. They hadn't seen the intruders.

There was a group, ten strong at least, who had just entered Rivendell's perimeter. I hooked my bow over my back and threw on my cloak before jumping down and jogging to the path they were on. I'd be damned if anyone got into Rivendell unchecked.

"Hey!" The shouts of Elves reached my ears as I blew past them. "What's happening? Where are you going?"

I had not the time to answer. Though I may have been overreacting, I felt a fierce protection for those I loved and would protect them to the best of my ability. I knew the fastest way to get to the path. It didn't take me long to reach the start of the trail; I was soon walking slowly with bent knees, ever so cautious. There was no noise at all.

Flipping the hood over my face, I nocked an arrow and stayed my course of creeping and stopping, creeping and stopping. Suddenly, I heard the scuffing of many heavy feet on the stone. Loud voices echoed and came closer and closer—really, had they no sense of safety?—so I drew my arrow back even further. They were clearly following the path with no intent to turn away. Even though this group had been the one to escape Orcs, that didn't mean they weren't our foes. And since the warrior-Elves were still dispatching the Orcs, it was up to me to question these nomads. I put my bow down when I realized that if they came around the corner and saw a metal weapon pointed at their faces they'd try to kill me right away. Maybe stealth was the way to go about this.

Suddenly, the talking ahead quieted and came no closer. I froze, unsure of what they were doing. I wished desperately to be on higher ground for the one on higher ground had an advantage. My eyes slid up of their own accord to see if I could clamber up at all silently. The answer was no. Wherever I would put my foot, a shower of rocks would follow and give me away. Especially with a group this big, I didn't want to incite their anger.

There was one place, a hidden sort of nook that I quickly swung myself into. Enclosed by the gray rock, I felt safe and concealed. There wasn't a good foothold, so I had to hold on with my arms. Thank goodness my arms got a regular workout to keep them strong. The place I hung was slightly higher than the solid path and was around a sharp curve in the path—unless the group explicitly looked for me, they wouldn't be able to find where I was.

It wasn't long before the loud talking reached where we were. I peeped out from where I hung and cocked my head in confusion. The group didn't have weapons brandished or murderous expressions. They looked about themselves with a wonder that made me want to laugh out loud. Though all of these men were no doubt many years older than me, their childlike eyes were wide. There were exceptions, of course, but this group didn't look one that was without dignity. They were breathing hard, with slumped shoulders and clothes that had seen better days. What was even more surprising, though, was that they were Dwarves. Never had I seen one in person and it was both frightening and interesting. They didn't move like those inhabiting Rivendell—it seemed as though their weight was deep in their gut so they moved with feet attached to the earth. For a moment I watched in raptures. How interesting they were!

Bringing up the rear of the group was a small, curly-haired man with bare and hairy feet. I almost smiled at him. Instead of being wonder-struck, he was dazed and stumbling. What was a Hobbit doing with these warriors? There wasn't an obvious reason as to why he would be traveling with a group such as this, but I doubted thirteen Dwarves had a Hobbit companion for no reason at all.

They filed by one by one, the path being too thin for them to walk next to each other.

"What do you suppose this place is?" whispered a curly-mustached Dwarf as he looked up, almost to where I hid. I sucked in a breath and pressed my face to the rock to hide even more. If they saw me hanging like an idiot from the rocks they'd freak out.

"I haven't a clue, but I doubt Thorin will like it." The gravelly, heavily accented voice belonged to the most terrifying man I'd ever seen in my entire life. Tattoos covered his entire bald skull and I could just make out the faint glints of metal piercings in his ears. I amended my earlier thoughts—this Dwarf was dangerous, no questions asked. He hefted a giant axe and the muscles in his arm bulged, accentuating more tattoos and a myriad of scars. Yikes. I hoped he left as soon as possible. Given the option between him and the band of Orcs outside in the field, I'd probably choose the Orcs.

Wait. Rewind. I thought harder and realized something. Thorin? The name resonated strongly with me, though I couldn't remember why.

Thorin. Thorin who?

"Damn it all. Someone is bound to find us!"

The scary one snorted. "With all of those Elves running around, we're not safe. Those yellow-bellies had no place storming us like that."

My blood temperature rose to a boil in one second flat. I snapped, "If you make such a big bloody ruckus all the time, then yes, someone is bound to find you."

My grip on the rock loosened so that I dropped onto the ground by the group. They all whipped around with yelps as I strode confidently around them to block their way into Rivendell. It didn't slip my attention that one of the youngest-looking Dwarves reached behind himself for an arrow. The others were wiser with their movements. They knew that a cloaked stranger could be anyone with any weapon at their disposal.

"Don't bother," I said to him brusquely. His dark eyes met mine warily. "I'm not going to attack you."

The curly-mustached Dwarf twisted his mouth in disbelief. "Then dropping in on us like that was a bit unnecessary, don't you think?"

I found that funny in spite of myself, and laughed loudly. After that came out of my mouth, there was no point in hiding that I was a woman any longer, so I tugged my hood off and relaxed. Their raised eyebrows were message enough that they surely didn't expect that. Though they weren't acting particularly aggressive, I kept my muscles ready and made a mental note of where my throwing knives were. Under my sleeve, tucked into my boots, in my waistband, in my collar.

"My name is Talraiwen." I tried to meet each of their gazes individually.

After exchanging looks, a white-haired Dwarf stepped forward and began, "My name is—"

A deep, rumbling voice came from behind the Dwarves and they parted to let someone through. This one was taller than most of them, taller than me, with raven-colored hair and beard. His sapphire eyes washed over me critically, making me feel about two inches tall. "Our names are of no concern to you." He met my gaze dismissively.

His aggressive voice raised my hackles. "Is that so? Because last time I checked, you were on _my_ land."

He narrowed those sharp eyes. Before either of us could snap at each other again, a large gray figure detached itself from the rocky walls. "I see that you've met. And what a lovely meeting it's been."

I was about to release an insult on the next mysterious man when I realized who he was. Gandalf the Gray strode towards me; the group made room for him like they had the dark Dwarf. I dropped into a curtsey immediately. I knew him well; he and Lord Elrond were great friends. Gandalf had even played with me when I was a child. "Mithrandir."

He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. "How good it is to see you again, Talraiwen, though I do wish it was under better circumstances."

"Indeed," I responded. I leaned around him to see the Dwarves again. I returned to my original position to raise a brow; his expression was solely that of chagrin. "And what, pray tell, are you doing with thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit? Running from a legion of Orcs?"

The others had begun talking amongst themselves. Only Gandalf, the dark Dwarf, and a blond Dwarf remained in conversation with me. The curly-haired Hobbit watched us from the side warily. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye; he widened his and shifted so that he was looking at the back of the dark Dwarf's head. The message was that I shouldn't antagonize him, for whatever reason. I blinked at the Hobbit so he knew that I understood and he relaxed with a sigh. Then another Dwarf engaged him in conversation and he turned away.

Gandalf's mouth twisted. "That is a matter I would much rather discuss with Lord Elrond."

I dipped my head in acquiescence.

"Lord Elrond?"

Gandalf huffed a pained sigh as I watched with curious eyes. He turned back to his head Dwarf and answered cautiously, "Yes, Thorin. We are at the edges of the last homely house in Middle Earth."

It snapped into my mind. Thorin Oakenshield. The lost King of Erebor. Flustered, I bowed my head to him. How embarrassing. I'd just insulted a king to his face; Lord Elrond would be horrified. "Welcome to Rivendell."

He was abruptly bemused. "Why do you act this way?"

I eyed him and replied, "Because I know how to speak to kings."

He didn't answer me, just stared. So intense was his gaze that I felt extremely uncomfortable until Gandalf commanded his attention again. "Thorin, if you want to speak we must do it now. As you well know, we don't have time to just give away."

That was strange. What was their race against time? They moved off to the side and argued in heated tones. That left me face-to-face with the blond Dwarf, who was studying me with a small smile on his face and a glimmer in his playful gaze.

"I'm Fili, by the way."

I grinned when he held out his hand. "Talraiwen. But call me Talla, please."

"Talla." He shook firmly.

He held on for a second longer than necessary before releasing me. A large brown pack was hefted over his shoulder, which he shifted uncomfortably. I didn't miss that he had a big axe and a sword strapped to the side. "So what are you doing here?"

His question caught me off guard. "Hmm?"

He said, "Well, it's obvious to me that you're no Elf."

"Let's just say I'm an orphan," I answered quietly. I knew that he had no ill will with these words, but they hit an unfortunate nerve. Every single person who ventured into Rivendell asked me the same questions just because I wasn't an Elf. And it wouldn't bother me, had the implication not been that I didn't belong.

To my surprise, his face set into a solemn expression and he replied, "So am I. Well, halfway."

I nodded to Thorin. "Is he your father?"

Fili smirked. "Wouldn't that be interesting? No, he's my uncle."

"Does he have any children?" I asked.

A headshake answered that. "So you're a prince, then?" Wow, I was prying. He raised a brow and his smile deepened. Before he could answer, Gandalf turned around with a scowling Thorin. Jeez, but I didn't think that man ever cracked a smile.

"If you please, Talraiwen, lead us to Lord Elrond. I must speak with him."

I dipped my head again and turned on my heel. The small man suddenly trotted up to keep pace with me; I looked at him curiously as he matched my strides.

"Hi, I'm Talraiwen. Talla."

He met my gaze with wide, honey-colored eyes that nearly matched his hair. "Bilbo Baggins. Pleased to meet your acquaintance."

As we broke away from the mountains and he saw Rivendell for the first time, he sucked in a gasp. "Wow."

"I know. Sometimes it still hits me, too." The large waterfalls, towering white buildings, and lush greenery were otherworldly. His mouth even dropped open slightly at the sight. I playfully reached over to shut his jaw for him. He didn't even acknowledge my touch. After a few moments his excitement made me uncomfortable and I dropped my gaze.

Upon looking down, I discovered that his large and hairy feet were completely bare. "Where are your shoes?" I asked incredulously.

He looked amused by my question. "We don't wear shoes. Don't need them." He broke his stride and lifted one foot to show me the bottom. Though his feet were dirty, it was clear that they were leathery and strong.

"You must be tough to run around without shoes! I can't even think about that," I told him truthfully.

He threw me a disparaging look and said, "Tough isn't quite the word anyone would use to describe me."

I looked stealthily behind me, where the pack of Dwarves followed, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Well, if you're comparing yourself to this group then no one ever seems tough." He finally grinned and relaxed just enough that the tenseness left his shoulders.

It wasn't long until we reached the bridge that led to Rivendell's entrance of sorts. Unfortunately the battle-Elves were still convened there, atop their mounts. They tensed and started at the sight of who I led with me, but I made the signal for them to stand down. I wasn't a simpleton: I knew of what history the Dwarves and Elves had. And due to Thorin Oakenshield's reaction, he was less than thrilled to be here. It was imperative that I kept the situation from becoming even more emotional than it already seemed to be.

Lord Elrond's eyebrows could not be higher when he watched us cross the bridge. I strode quickly to his side. He leaned down so that I could whisper in his ear.

"I think I opened a can of worms," I said quietly. He snorted. "They're here for something… strange."

"Strange, you say?" He sounded brooding. I nodded.

"This is no ordinary group. Just take a look at them," I hissed.

A sigh sounded in my ear as he continued, "Your impulsive nature has always been a blessing and a curse, my dear."

"I know. I don't know how you put up with it all the time."

He pulled away grinning and faced the Dwarves with that very disposition. It didn't go unnoticed that they didn't let go of their weapons, didn't relax from their tense positions. Their distrust was crystal clear. The Elves gathered around shot me murderous glares as they hopped off of their horses and stood motionless. It appeared that they blamed me for inviting them here.

Thorin stepped forward to greet Lord Elrond and I gladly got out of the way. I did not want to be in the middle of whatever explosion was about to happen. While moving away, I caught Fili's eye and he waggled his brows at me. A laugh bubbled from my lips before I raised my finger, indicating that he be silent. He hid his smile and kept quiet.

"Welcome to Rivendell," Lord Elrond was saying to Thorin. He also made a point of looking at the rest of the travel-weary group. Their stares were acidic, which Lord Elrond made no notice of. Thank the stars that he didn't bend his knees like he was talking to a child—the Dwarves, while not much shorter than him, still had to tilt their heads back to look into his eyes. I wagered that Thorin was about three inches taller than me and he was level with a normal Elf's shoulder.

Somehow, having the king and our Lord speaking to each other made me extremely uncomfortable. Instead of eavesdropping on their conversation, I busied myself with pulling the reins over Lord Elrond's horse and smoothing a hand over his neck, murmuring to him in Elvish. He was breathing hard and his impeccable coat was flecked with sweat.

"Shh, Brego," I whispered. He nickered in response, slowly calming down. His kind brown horse eyes focused on me and seemed to smile. He flicked his ears and nuzzled my hand, looking for treats. I smiled as my companion, one of the Elves who'd just been in battle, Dellan, nudged my shoulder and handed me a carrot for the gelding. His soft lips ticked my hand as he crunched away.

Lord Elrond cleared his throat and asked in Elvish, "Would you put Brego back in his stall? I must attend to our guests."

"Of course," I said back. Thorin's eyes narrowed even further than their usual narrow as we conversed in Elvish. Due to the lack of his confusion, I guessed that he understood what we were saying. I decided to ignore that murderous glare. Brego followed docilely after me when I tugged on his reins to lead him back to his stall.

Dellan was leading the horse in front of me. He turned, a twinkle in his eyes. "You sure can find them, can't you?"

I threw the top of Brego's carrot at the back of his head and his loud guffaws trickled back to reach my ears. "Would you turn away Gandalf the Gray? Even if he had in his wake the entire load of the Iron Hills?"

"No, probably not."

We put our horses in their respective stalls, untacked them, and walked back together.

I gave him a brief once-over, trying to be sly, but he caught me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm making sure that you're okay after the fight. I didn't exactly see it."

He scoffed, "Of course I'm okay!" He sounded insulted that I didn't immediately assume he'd done amazingly in the battle.

"Oh, right," I answered with fake enthusiasm. "I meant to ask how many Orcs you killed. You must have done most of the damage, am I right?"

"Exactly."

I sighed. "I wish I'd been called to fight with you. I know, I know," I snapped as he opened his mouth to interrupt. "I'm not one of the battlers, but I just wish I was. I'm capable and Lord Elrond knows it."

This was one argument we had frequently, and it always went the same. "Talla, you know that Lord Elrond would never risk you. You're like the daughter he never had."

"I know, I know."

It was about midday by this point and the sun shone directly on us. After abandoning our tiff I smiled, tilting my head back to expose it to the warmth. Days like this were my favorite, as my favorite season was fall. At this time of year autumn was just beginning. A red leaf drifted down from the sky to brush my cheek and I opened my eyes, smiling. Once we were free of the stables, the crisp fall air was easily accessible so I breathed deep.

Dellan gave me a look that let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he thought I was crazy. "Are you feeling all right?"

We started the flight of stairs that would take us to the general area where we usually convened for our midday meal. "I just feel lovely at about this time of year, don't you? Of course I'm okay. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know." His silvery eyes didn't leave my face. "You just seem… Lately you've been quieter than usual."

"Hmm, I thought you guys would like that." He laughed and threw a friendly arm around my shoulders, squeezing tight.

We rounded the corner; he promptly froze with wide eyes. The scene before him was chaotic in comparison with how the Elves handled themselves. Twelve Dwarves and one Hobbit crowded around a table, shoving food in their mouths without stopping for plates or silverware. The dark wood of the table wasn't even visible under the volume of food. Packs were strewn about while weapons stayed strapped to their owners' bodies. Either they were starving or the selection of food was magnificent; they ate with a rigor I hadn't seen before. It was hilarious. I cracked up easily as Dellan caught back up with me. Since they'd apparently been traveling for a long time, I didn't judge their table manners. They were probably starving.

"I can't believe their manners. Look at them eat," Dellan hissed in my ear disapprovingly.

"Oh, lighten up," I cajoled, jabbing my elbow into his blue tunic. "You can't honestly see that and tell me you don't think it's funny."

He rolled his eyes. I saw the flicker of humor in them before he split off with a brief farewell and went to the path that led to his room—he seemed fatigued. Since the wide room I was in was already in an uproar, I tried to sneak up to where Lord Elrond dined in stealth. It was easy to pass the Dwarves' raucous table without catching any eyes; I crept up the three stairs that led to his table and walked cautiously behind him. He was also seated with Thorin and a beaming Gandalf. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. The wizard was far too cheery for comfort. He looked like the cat that got the cream.

Lord Elrond held a gold goblet in his hand and looked over the rim speculatively at the wizard. "And what were you doing on the Great East road?"

Gandalf's smile dropped in half a second to a guilty look that made him look about a thousand years older than he actually was. Thorin threw him a trademark glare. I rocked back on my heels and coughed surreptitiously behind them to get someone's attention.

Lord Elrond turned his head and caught sight of me. He beckoned and said, "Show Mr. Baggins where he is to stay, and then ask him to meet me at sun-down. I wish to speak with him."

I nodded and made to go. Lord Elrond and Gandalf resumed conversation as I brushed past the back of Thorin's chair. He suddenly reached behind himself to catch my wrist. I froze dead.

"If you don't mind me asking, Talraiwen, but where did you come from?" The deep timbre of his voice startled me again.

I responded confusedly, "I'm not sure. Apparently I was abandoned here as a babe."

Thorin's sapphire eyes held mine for another instant before he nodded once and released me. Okay, that was strange. The thought entered my mind again that they were, without a doubt, the most peculiar and interesting creatures I'd met. Who just thought it was appropriate to ask where one was from with no prerequisite? I didn't find it offensive, just weird.

Upon reaching the Dwarves' table, I had no idea how to get Bilbo's undivided attention. There was no ceremony to their meal and he was caught up smack in the middle of it. They were also talking quite loudly. For a moment I just stood awkwardly, feeling the strangeness of being the only stranger in a group of seemingly lifelong friends.

"Bilbo," I hissed. "Hey! Bilbo!" Amazingly, he heard that and turned to see me gesturing at him. He looked greatly relieved at my interruption. Once he and I were in speaking distance, I relayed Elrond's message.

His eyes were, once again, wide with confusion. "Have I done something wrong?"

With a smile, I replied. "Actually, it's the opposite. You've done something right. He sounded very fond of you."

The Hobbit's little chest puffed out in pride. I was about to walk away when one of the Dwarves made a large gesture with his arm—and when he brought it back down, it smacked me square in the middle of the back. I jerked forward with the force and only narrowly avoided smashing into the table by catching myself with my hands.

He turned; he was clearly the youngest Dwarf among them. His wide brown eyes were horrified. "I'm so sorry!"

His hit hadn't been that hard or painful, he'd just caught me off guard. I grinned. His worry was adorable. "Don't worry. No harm done."

Bilbo pinched my arm sharply. As I was about to whirl around and ask him what the hell he'd done that for, the rest of the members at table came to my attention. They were frozen, some with mouths still full of food, some with hands raised halfway to their mouths. Each and every one had their gaze fixed solely on me, on my collarbone or neck. Their emotions ranged from shock to outright anger. The giant scary one had half-risen from his seat and shifted his gaze to my eyes. His fury was tangible.

"What…" I was a bird locked in the eyes of a snake. No one moved—even the gentle wind seemed to have stopped. There was not one single noise. Energy crackled in the air.

"Dwalin!" Thorin's sharp rebuttal of the giant Dwarf broke his concentration. I also looked up at the Mountain King; he stood with arms crossed and a furrowed brow. He was just as confused as I. Lord Elrond and Gandalf had departed so he stood alone with his back to the setting sun, cutting a very imposing figure against the sky.

I turned shakily to Bilbo, still very unaware of what was going on. "Don't forget to see Lord Elrond," I peeped before fleeing the scene. As I passed, Fili met my eyes, but his expression wasn't angry or confused or stunned. Instead, he looked awed and slightly charming all at once. His brows were raised, and his mouth was twisted in a wry smile that was just even more confusing.

When I got into the corridor where my room was located, I slowed down and leaned back against one of the walls, spent. What in the world was this group of Dwarves doing here? And what was their purpose anyway?

Bilbo, padding by with his bare feet, stopped when he saw me slouching there. "Are you all right, Talraiwen?" The soft but intelligent cadence of his voice let me know that even though he wasn't battle-groomed, he was a smart and well-kept man. I hoped he was smart enough to answer my next question.

"Please, call me Talla," I insisted in exhaustion. Then I shoved off the wall and pointed over to the railing, indicating that he step over with me.

"But I thought I was supposed to go speak with Lord Elrond."

"This will just take a minute," I promised

Once we were both standing at the railing, I turned and faced him. He was staring out over the grandeur of Rivendell with the same star-struck expression that had been on his face before. I almost felt bad interrupting his daydreaming but I had to do it; not knowing about the Dwarves was eating me alive. When my voice hit his ears, he looked as though I'd thrown a bucket of icy water on him.

"Tell me, Bilbo. What are you and your Company doing here?"


End file.
